Today, a girlfriend and I decided it was imperative that we check out the new Target near us in Toronto. I had yet to go, and Henry, as per usual, had grown out of shoes in 3 months. He was down to a pair of flip flops that I ordered online one size up and rain boots, so, as part of our "day of epic adventure" (more on that another time), we headed to pick up "Aunt Mel" and went over to the store. Obviously, I found a few cute little things for myself, so did Mel, and when it came time for us to get shoes for H, he immediately asked for the Thomas ones. He even wanted to switch out of the shoes he was wearing. So he sat in the shopping cart singing THOMAS! THOMAS!
We picked up a few other odds and ends, including a Justice League shirt (another H pick) and then went back past the shoes for one more sweep to see if I could find him another pair. And there they were. A wall of toddler Converse in different styles and colours, separated clearly by "gender." I picked up a nondescript grey pair, and H said, "no! dee!" (His way of saying, "those" or "that.") and pointed to an adorable purple pair with pink laces and stars and a neon green inside and side zipper. I panicked. All I could think about was someone saying something about it. How much it would hurt him (and me) and how much it would crush me if he got hurt for something he loved. So, I forced him into the same style in navy blue and orange.
That decision sat in my gut for hours afterwards. Why didn't I just buy him the damned purple ones he wanted? Why did I feel so strange about it in that moment that I flat-out refused and paid for the ones he didn't want? Who was I? I painted his fingers and toenails 10 hours earlier just after breakfast. WHAT THE HELL?
Parental guilt is far worse than Greek/Jewish/various Eastern European mother's guilt. I felt shame and embarrassment for not just doing what was right by my kid. So, I took to Facebook to vent. And my friends reminded me that I can always EXCHANGE the shoes and I should just do what he wants. And then, I found out that Target is open until 10pm.
So I went back and exchanged the shoes for the ones he wanted in the first place. A weight lifted off my shoulders and I feel proud again to be the parent I want to be and give my child the ability to express himself and do whatever he wants and wear whatever he wants in order to feel happy with who he is.
When I got back online, I started surfing one of my fave gossip sites, and one of the first stories I saw was about Celine Dion's son, Nelson. At 2.5 years old (about the same age as H), his favourite thing in the world to do is wear high-heeled shoes. So, during her recent interview on Katie Couric's daytime talk show, she not only mentioned it, but she showed the audience a photo.
Funny how often the universe shows you that your initial gut reaction is always the right one.
Remind me to never second guess myself again.
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